


When it Rains, it Pours

by auntslappy282



Series: Modern Assassins AU [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, M/M, Modern AU, No Assassin's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1871397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntslappy282/pseuds/auntslappy282
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Altair makes a mistake, he's forced to leave his comfortable life in order to turn his back on the truth of what he did; leaving his love Malik behind. Suffering from PTSD and other issues, life in the big city may not seem as easy as one may think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New City, New Faces

**Author's Note:**

> Wowie sorry this isn't very long. I'll prolly add the second part once I get it written. I will hopefully fully update this at some point and actually finish it because it kinda became my baby after the year-ish I've been working on it. It's my first Assassin's Creed fic and, notably, my first fanfic on AO3! C: I hope you enjoy!! Also just a warning there will be time skips but I'll post when their are so you know what's going on!! C:

The streets of New York were unforgiving. He had only been here a week and he already felt unsafe in the busy lifestyles of the New Yorkers. He'd moved here to get away from his mistakes, not make new ones. Altaïr sighed, foggy breath escaping his mouth. It was winter already in New York and the snow and rain would not stop coming. He tugged on the protective rim of his white hood, his brown leather fingerless gloves creaking slightly as he did so. He quickly shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets and stared at his black converse. It was getting late, but Altaïr had no intention of going home.

He found himself in front of a large bar. The windows were tinted, but didn't really give off the impression of it being a strip club. The neon sign read Auditore Bar, and gave the feel of a place that was classy, unlike some of the bars Altaïr frequented. There were tables out in the front that held men of all ages and shapes in nice suits enjoying a cigarette and a fancy drink. The outside of the building was a striking white color, but it wasn't perfect, in fact it looked rather aged. Altaïr smiled to himself before pushing open the door and looking inside. 

Soft jazz music played throughout the entire building, which wasn't small in the slightest. The counter, with tons of colorful bottles filled with liquids covering the shelves behind the counter, took up most of the center back area of the building and there were booths that lined the walls. There were a few tables scattered about here and there in the empty area's between the wall and the bar, but not many. An old baby grand piano sat in the corner; it looked like it had been ignored for many years, and what a shame that was. It was bold and black, though the keys were yellowed from age, along with some of the paint worn. Altaïr looked at it fondly. He would have loved to play it and get it back into working condition. He smiled softly at the piano before turning himself to the counter and finding himself an empty spot.

He was surrounded by men in suits who looked way to officially to be drinking their assess off in a bar. Altaïr couldn't help the smirk that came to his lips. He was greeted by a tall young man with short dark brown hair. He wore a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a tattoo on his right forearm. He had a scar that cut through his lip, matching Altaïr's own. "Hello sir, what can I get you tonight?" He asked, his tone ever friendly.  
"Ah. I'd like a beer, thanks," Altaïr said, pulling on the hood of his hoodie. He wasn't going to take it down. It allowed for him to feel protected and like people weren't staring at him. Altaïr sighed before poking at the stump of his left ring finger. It was still tender to touch, so he did wince a bit. The pain was comforting though. It was his own fault after all. He was the smart one who thought it would be a good idea to go on a motorcycle ride in those conditions. He was lucky after all. His partner? Not so much.

The waiter returned with his drink and handed it to the man. He smiled and lingered a bit before finally saying, "I haven't seen you around here before. You new around these parts?"  
Altaïr nodded. "I moved down here earlier this week."

"Oh I see! So this is your first time eh? Well, welcome to New York. Don't let the harsh winds get you down or anything!" He said with a chuckle. Altaïr replied with his best "thanks but go the fuck away" smile and took a sip of his beer.

The bar tender didn't seem to notice his look and continued talking. "Say, you just moved into town huh? Where'd you move from?"

Altaïr gave him a look, but answered anyways. "I came down from upstate."

"Oh man it's nice up there."

Altaïr nodded tightly, taking another sip of his drink before there was a loud shout. Altaïr turned his gaze to two men in suits yelling at one another and a women trying to keep them apart. Without a second thought, Altaïr was up out of his seat and approaching the shouting group that was already attracting a bit of a crowd. 

"You two are so drunk! Stop fighting!" The women yelled as she almost got in the line of fire. Altaïr walked up to the two men and stood between them and in front of the women. 

"Hey what d'ya think yer doin'?" One of the men asked, his black, once neatly kept hair falling in his face.

"Yeah, ye can't just come an' act like ya own the place," The other said, giving Altaïr a very unsteady look. They both reeked of alcohol.

"You two can either leave, or I can escort you out of here. Your choice."

"What? Ya think we'e sca'ed of some te'o'ist?" 

Altaïr blinked. He hadn't been called that in a long time. True, his skin was slightly darker than most white men, but he was sure his hood obscured most of that. Observant drunks, yay. "I will give you ten seconds," Altaïr hissed, his gold eyes piercing the men from under his hood.

They just laughed before one of the men grabbed Altaïr's arms, holding him behind his back and the other slammed his fist into Altaïr's mouth, his ring cutting into his mouth and down, blood oozing into his mouth; an old wound re-opening.

"That was a mistake," Altaïr stated before flipping the man holding him over his shoulder and into the other man. There was the thunk of flesh on top of flesh, and Altaïr touched his mouth with a hiss. He pulled away his hand to find blood there. "Fuck," He muttered before looking up in time to dodge another fist in his direction. "You won't give up will you?" Altaïr said before grabbing the others fist that was thrown his way and twisting it in a painful direction, the man crumbling behind his fist. Then there's an arm being thrown around his neck and squeezing tight. "Fuck," Altaïr mutters to himself, struggling in the bigger mans grasp. Bigger men always had an advantage over him when he was fighting. His vision began blurring a bit, and it was getting continuously harder to breath before there was a loud shout and he was thrown to the ground; choking back air into his lungs.  
There was a thunk and more shouting before a gentle hand was pressed to his back and there was a voice that wasn't quiet making sense.

" _Il mio amico_ are you ok?" An Italian accent asked. Altaïr finally managed to look up and see a broad shouldered man with long black hair that's pulled back into a ponytail, dark facial hair that is cut through with a scar similar to his own and the other waiters he saw earlier. His white dress shirt clenched around his arms and other places where his muscle strained probably rather uncomfortably against the restricting fabric.  
"Wh- yes. Yeah I'm fine," Altaïr managed to say, rubbing a hand around his neck, catching blood from something. He looked down at his left hand, and noted that his wound hasn't re-opened, which is a plus. He touched his face before remembering that yes, he was punched in the face by a rather sharp ring. Bastard.

"Here, let me help you up," The man said, lifting Altaïr up and tugging a hand around his waist to help support Altaïr. "Follow me to the back room. I'll look at your cut," He reassured. 

Altaïr was led into a back room and it was a nice back room too. There was a small kitchen area with a microwave and fridge with a small table and bar stools next to it. There was also a small lounge area with two large couches and a TV. Altaïr was impressed. He was sat down on the table in the kitchen while the other man went into a drawer and pulled out a small first aid kit.

" _Grazie_ for breaking up that fight. It was the act of a true gentlemen," The man said with an easy smile. 

"It wasn't a problem," Altaïr stated as a cloth was pushed on his face and began dabbing at the open wound to clean it. 

"Not many people would do that. It's usually my job, but I was back here getting something prepared."

Altaïr nodded. "Names Ezio by the way. Ezio Auditore," Ezio said once he was done cleaning up the cut and was placing bandages along it. 

"You own this bar?" Altaïr asked once he was done. Ezio nodded, smiling. "It's been passed down throughout the family, and it was my turn to take care of the old _signora."_

Altaïr nodded. "Oh Altaïr by the way," He replied, feeling a bit dumb for not saying it earlier. 

Ezio smiled at him. "You're new around here, _si?_ " 

Altaïr nodded. "Yeah, I moved down here a week ago," He replied, hand automatically falling onto the stump of his ring finger. 

Ezio nodded, before clapping his hand on Altaïrs thigh, surprising the man. The Italian smiled. "Well, what can I offer you? A free drink?" 

Altaïr laughed. "No need for that. I was just helping."

The Italian smiled mischievously. "Or I could get you drunk off your ass? You seem like you could need that right now," Ezio inquired.

Altaïr chuckled. "Yeah, that's probably true." He didn't really even know this Ezio person, but he seemed fine enough. Plus any friendly face in a city like this was a blessing in disguise. 

Ezio smiled wide. " _Bene!_ Follow me and I'll get us set up!" Ezio said in a slight sing song voice. Altaïr had a sudden sinking feeling he was going to regret this, however, he stood up and followed Ezio to the bar, Ezio slipping behind the bar and Altaïr seating himself towards the edge of the bar where not many people were sitting. Ezio returned shortly after leaving, returning with two small shot glasses. Altaïr took one in hand, and after tapping the edge of the glass to Ezio's did he slug down the shot with much vigor. Ezio laughed quietly before refilling the two glasses. Whatever they were drinking was pretty strong.

"So, what made you move down here?" Ezio asked, rubbing his finger along the rim of the now empty glass in thought.

Altaïr hesitated for a minute before replying. "I made some mistakes... Big mistakes. I needed to escape it's nasty grasp." Altaïr subconsciously fiddled with his stump.

"Ah. Issues with a _signora?_ " Ezio asked, a smile falling across his face.

"Yeah, something like that," Altaïr snorted. The Italian quickly refilled the two mens shot glasses and they were gone rather quickly. Altaïr could already feel himself getting tispy. He had always been a lightweight.

****

 

There was a loud banging sound coming from _somewhere._ He wasn't entirely sure where. When he opened his eyes to an unfamiliar living room, he sat up quickly, but his head protested rather loudly and Altaïr grabbed at his head with his hands, covering his eyes from the light which was just making it worse. He groaned loudly before attempting to figure out what the hell had happened to him.

There was a muffeled laugh from behind him and Altaïr turned his piercing gold eyes towards it. There was a tall man who looked like he could possibly punch through a wall if it was necisarry, staring at him. Oh, Ezio. Right, the one responsible for his highly hungover state.

"Ah, sorry to wake you Altaïr," He said, though looked tired. He was probably hungover about as much as Altaïr was.

"Why did I think it was a good idea to get drunk?" 

Ezio chuckled. "We all regert it the morning after."

Altaïr nodded before laying his head back down on the couch. How had he ended up in Ezio's apartment? He sighed through his nose before a cell phone rang, causing Altaïr to wince.

"Ah hello?" Ezio replied when he answered his phone. Altaïr stopped listening in once his head decided to bang even harder in his head, if that was even possible. Ezio grumbled to himself in Italian when he ended the conversation he had had on the phone.

"Do you need work?" He suddenly called, catching Altaïr off guard. 

"What?"

"Do you need work?" Ezio replied, impatience in his tone.

"Uh, I am looking for a job, yeah," Altaïr replied, sitting up and looking at the Italian.

"Ah! _Bene!_ You start tomorrow."

Altaïr blinked at him a few times in disbelief. "What?"

"You start tomorrow. Wear a nice dress shirt and dark jeans. I'll instruct you on the specifics once you get there."

"Are you hiring me?" Altaïr back tracked.

" _Si._ Be at the bar at four tomorrow."

Altaïr suddenly found himself nodding and saying, "Ok," before he could even comprehend the situation or what exaclty had just gone down, because he had no clue what had happened, but hey, work was work. It's not often an oppurtiunity like this falls into someones lap.

"Speaking of the bar, I have to be over there to open so I'll call Desmond over here to bring you home, _si?_ " Ezio said, grabbing a jug of milk and chugging out of it. He placed it back in the fridges side door and grabbed a muffin. 

Altaïr blinked at Ezio for a few minutes- things taking slightly longer to process due to his hangover- but he nodded. "That works for me, sure." 

" _Bene._ I'll be heading off now. Desmond will come make sure you get home safely and do not be late to work tomorrow!" Ezio shouted as he shoved a muffin in his mouth and slammed the door shut behind him, making Altaïr groan loudly and flop back on the couch. What time had it even been? Altaïr searched for a clock and blinked in surprise when he did find a clock and saw what time it was. 3:00 pm. He sighed. Of course. But it's not like he had anywhere else to go. He rolled his eyes slightly to himself before dozing off again for a little bit until Desmond would get there to take him home or whatever.

 

Altaïr was awoken by the light shaking of his shoulder and he awoke, throwing his arm around the person whom had been shaking him awake, flexing his other hand into a fist.

"Woah buddy! It's all good. It's just Desmond here to take you home so you don't die in a ditch or something," A man said with a smile on his face, though his eyes were wide and a little surprised. He was the bartender at the bar.

Altaïr was slow to connect the dots, but as soon as he did, he dropped his grip and let go of Desmond and shook his head. "Sorry about that," He said with a slightly embarassed smile. 

"No worries. I'm a bit too quite for my own good I suppose," Desmond said with a smile. "So, let's take you home! I apologies for my car before hand. It's a mess," He said with a smile. Altaïr smiled before pulling himself off the couch with a groan. He followed Desmond out of Ezio's apartment and down a flight of stairs into a shitty pickup truck that looked like it shouldn't even work.

"Nice ride," Altaïr said with a slight smile as he got into the passenger side seat. 

"Hey. No mocking. It gets me around and that's all I could afford so I got little old Gertrude."

Altaïr stared at Desmond in surprise and slight shock. What a moron. "You named your truck Gerturde?" 

"Yes. You have a problem with that?" Desmond asked, starting the truck up with a loud thunk and a clank of an engine starting to life. Altaïr only shook his head. 

The car ride to Altaïr's apartment was quite except for the directions Altaïr had to say every once and a while to get Demsond to his shitty and shady apartment complex.

"Your apartment buildings about as shady as my trucks engine," Desmond said when he pulled up to it.

"Cheapest thing I could afford and still feel ok about," Altaïr said with a shrug before getting out of the truck. "Thanks for the ride. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Desmond chuckled. "Ezio rope you in to work for us?" Altaïr nodded in reply and Desmond laughed. "He has a way with words I guess you could say." 

"I'm pretty okay about it. I was looking for a job anyways."

Desmond nodded before starting the engine up in his car again. "Well I'll see you tomorrow. Best of luck with the hangover!" Desmond called as he pulled away from the curb.

Altaïr groaned to himself. He had almost forgotten about his hangover. He sighed as he turned toward the large stairwell to his new aparment on the fourth floor.


	2. A Day On the Job

Altaïr's apartment wasn't really all that pretty. Most of it was empty and filled with bags that carried his few belongings. He hadn't really settled in all that much as he had just moved in earlier that week. Altaïr sighed as he dumped himself on the shitty little mattress that sat in the corner of the one room apartment. His head was still pounding from that damned hangover. 

Altaïr turned on his side and fiddled with the stump of his left ring finger and sighed. Why did all of those events happen and cause him to loose not only his finger, but also to ruin the one thing he loved more than anything? Altaïr sighed before sitting up. 

There was a suitcase full of clothing that was half opened that sat tucked in at the end of the mattress on the ground. Altaïr scootched down the mattress to open the suitcase and he began digging through it, looking for a dress shirt of some kind. He grabbed a crumpled white dress shirt and looked at it and sighed.

Between the seams of this crumpled pile of cloth in his hands, this shirt held many memories. Many happy memories. This was Altaïrs fancy date night shirt. The first date he had ever taken Malik on was filled with nervousness and tension. It was a fancy restaurant, nothing to write home about. It was expensive and had fish and steak; a lot of people had dates there. Altaïr wasn't thinking of that though, he was vibrating in his own skin. He was scared shitless of what a man like Malik would even want to have to do with him. They were in High school then. Young and reckless, yet happy. They had been two kids, outcasts in the world, mostly for their skin color. 

The first time they met, Malik had stood up for his bleeding ass on the ground; his lip freshly ripped open by a kids fist. He had been fighting with all his might, when this quite nerdy kid stood up for him. Punched a few kids in the face and ended up roughly beaten up for it in return. After that they were inseparable. They would speak shit about kids behind their back in Arabic and get called horrible names for it, but it was far too much fun to stop. 

When Altaïr finally asked Malik out, he punched Altaïr in the head, laughing at him for taking so long. Altaïr was ecstatic; nothing could touch him when Malik was around. They were two eagles in a sea of crows. Of course, them dating only offered more words of hatred in their direction, but they had friends and friends that would stand up for them if anyone decided they wanted to be a dick to them. Altaïr loved it. It was wonderful and gave them a secure place in a world set against them. However, it all ended on that fateful day in January. Icy roads had led from one thing to another and Altaïr couldn't handle it. He had to leave, leave everything he had worked so hard to achieve, and the love of his life. 

He had even bought a ring. He had planned the perfect way of telling Malik and then he had to ruin everything by being clumsy and reckless with the things he loved. It was all his fault. It was all his fault...  
He was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone in his pocket. He pulled it out, looking over the text with a confused look. It read, "Hey! Hope the hangover is treating you well. Make sure to be in by 3 pm tomorrow! 4 was incorrect. See you tomorrow~ :) ~Ezio" 

Altaïr sighed. "How the hell did you get my number," He said to himself before pushing his phone back in his pocket. Guess that was it. Onto tomorrow.

****

The sun was high in the sky and bright. It was also hot and humid. People were bustling around in the afternoon heat as it was about time for the evening rush to begin heading back up to their lonely houses.  
Altaïr glanced at his phone. It read 2:50. He was ten minutes early and one hundred percent uncomfortable in this dress shirt that was rolled up to his sleeves. He always felt empty without a hood on his head, but he'd take it for the sake of a job, and a job meant money. He needed money to live so it was important. He sighed, steeling himself and then pushing open the doors and was greeted immediately by an over excited Italian who loved getting people drunk. (Or that's all Altaïr really knew about the man.)

 _"Ciao!_ It's good to see you Altaïr! I'm honestly surprised you showed up," Ezio said, his arm slung over Altaïrs shoulder like it owned the place. Altaïr glared at it. 

"Come over here and let me show you around the place!" Ezio said, throwing his hand in the direction of the entirely empty bar except for Desmond sitting behind the bar in a black dress shirt, cleaning glasses. He looked up and waved. Altaïr waved back. The Auditorie Bar looked so empty without it bustling with people. The quite hum of jazz still played over the speakers of the bar. 

Altaïr followed Ezio over to the entry that lead behind the bar and Ezio turned and smiled. "This is where you'll be spending most of your days. You'll stand behind the bar and when people come to order alcohol you serve them alcohol and they pay you. Some may leave a tip which goes all to you, and that is the basic gist of the show. Here, let me walk you through the alcohols." 

Altaïr listened as Ezio explained all the different types of drinks and all the mixed that were on the menu. He ended with a pat on the back and a, "You'll get the hang of it, and in the meantime, leave it up to me and _il mio amico_ Desmond to help you if you need it!" Ezio said with a smile and walked back into the back room behind the bar. "This is the break room by the way. I'll let you know when you can break for dinner and such, do not worry." Altaïr nodded in reply and stood awkwardly at the end of the bar. He eyed the piano and Desmond caught his gaze.

"You play?" Altaïr nodded. "I used to, yeah." Desmond smiled. "She hasn't been played in a while. Say, we don't open for another half an hour, why don't you go ahead and play a little diddy?" Altaïr raised his eyebrows at Desmonds use of the word 'diddy' but he nodded. 

The piano was gorgeous, and could tell many stories with a closer look. It was white, but there was some paint chipped and some scrapes on the old girl from age and misuse. Altaïr sighed and sat at the white bench that creaked loudly as he gingerly sat down. His fingers lightly danced over the yellowed keys, a soft smile falling upon Altaïr's face. It was the first genuine smile in weeks. He played a few keys, it was slightly off tune, but surprisingly ok for a piano that looked like it hadn't been used in ages. He began to key off a few keys that he could remember. He did remember one specific song he had learned. He had learned it for Malik and he wouldn't be able to forget those darned notes, no matter what he did.

He smiled a sad smile, closing his eyes as his fingers flew over the keys in a learned and practiced way. He was able to make up for the fact he didn't have a ring finger surprisingly quickly, though he did miss a few notes here and there. He finished the song and then stopped, his fingers sliding slowly from the keys and he looked up to see both Desmond and Ezio staring at him with large smiles on their face.  
"What?" Altaïr said, accusation in his voice. "That was _bello, il mio amico,"_ Ezio said, looking close to tears. Desmond nodded. "That was really something." 

Altaïr couldn't help but blush slightly. He had never really been that good at playing the piano, but he had gotten a very similar reaction from Malik the first time he had heard him play, and his smile turned sad.  
"We should get him to play on Friday nights! It could be our new thing," Ezio said to Desmond who nodded. "What do you say Altaïr? Up for getting this ol' girl up to working condition again?" 

Altaïr nodded. "That'd be nice yeah." He liked the piano. He felt like he could hide some of his worry in the beast. It was... nice. It gave him a place to escape to. 

_"Fantasitco!_ We'll start that up next Friday and I'll get her up to working condition. Come on boys! The Auditorie Bar is open for business!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is kinda short aha. Well some backstory and Altmal!! yay!! And yes Altair plays the piano. Anyways, the next chapter will be from Maliks POV and then their will probably be a time skip of about 2 years. I gotta introduce stuff before other stuff goes down hard core yeah yeah aha.  
> Also I would like to apologies for my use of apostrophes, I don't really know how to use them and I'm not having anyone beta these. If anyone want's to I'd be happy to have someone beta it. c:  
> Anyways enjoy~ C:


	3. Hospital Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeereee's Maliks part! Enjoy! There will be 2 more chapters and then the 2 year time skip! C: Enjoy~

There was a small fragment of light, dancing along the white linen sheets, giving a small, happy tone in a room full of dreary memories and experiences. The white curtains blew gently as a breeze pushed through the window. Birds chirped outside in the warm afternoon light. 

The dancing fragment of light weren’t a shinning light to the man who sat blankly in the hospital room, the stark white walls were a great contrast from his dark skin and eyes. He had a small goatee on his chin that was surrounded by stubble that was begging to be shaved off. His eyes were lifeless and sad. 

There was a knock on the door to his hospital room, but the man didn’t care. He kept his gaze focused on the curtains blowing in the wind and the shining light on his linen sheets. A nurse walked in and checked all his vitals once last time, for he was going home. 

“Hello Malik. I have good news! Your arm has healed fine and will only need the stitches removed in a few weeks. Just make sure to keep it clean and well maintained so they don’t get infected. Kadar, your brother, will be coming to pick you up shortly,” She said before staring for a few seconds, sighing in defeat and then leaving. 

Malik turned his gaze to the ceiling, placing his head on a pillow. Oh how he wished the name that was picking him up started with an A. Oh how he wished he could just get up right now and go find him. He wanted to cry but he had no tears left. He was useless even in that regard. He was useless in many regards at this point. He was useless...

There was a soft knock on his hospital door and a young man with dark skin like Malik’s and black hair with a lot of dark scruff around his face. He wore a plain grey hoodie with dark skinny jeans. “Malik?” He called gently, coming closer to the bed, his actions slow like if he approached too quickly Malik might spook and run away.

Malik didn’t bother moving his head to look, but just kept his dark eyes focused and looking over every crack and crevice in the ceiling; mapping them out in his head, trying to memorize them. “Malik?” Kadar tried again, this time he was closer to the bed, on Maliks right side. He reached forward before touching Maliks hand. Malik slowly turned his head to look at his brother, his eyes drained and dead. 

Kadar seemed relived for even the tiniest amount of recognition that he was there with him. “Hey _akh._ You ready to go home?” He asked gently, rubbing his thumb slowly over the top of Maliks hand as he grasped it in a hold. Malik nodded slowly, before closing his eyes. 

There was a few moments of silence before Kadar asked hesitantly, “Does it hurt?” Malik opened his eyes sadly. “Which part?” Kadar looked down at the ground, focusing on an invisible rock before meekly saying, “Any of it.” 

Malik turned his head to the ceiling again, eyes beginning to well up before spilling over; silently crying. “It all hurts.”

Kadar looked up at his brother, seeing the tears pouring down his face before letting out a shaky breath. “We’ll get through this right? We always get though things.” The words sounded stale in the air, as if they had been said so many times. Many times through this month spent crying at the side of a hospital bed, not sure if your brother was going to make it or if he would make sure he wasn’t going to. 

Malik nodded gently, raising his right arm and placing it on his brothers face. “I’m still here for you _akh._ I’ll always be here for you.” The reply was just as stale; false hope in a hospital bed where people could’ve died. Being surrounded by death did that to you. Though Kadar nodded, tears filling his eyes before there was a knock on the door and the doctor came in, a bag full of pills and medication. 

“Hey Malik. It’ll take a while for your arm to fully heal, but we want you to come back in a few weeks so we can check that everything has gone well and we won’t have to worry about infections or things of the like. There's instructions in the bag for what you’ll be needing to take and when. Please keep him up to date on these things Kadar. It’s important he doesn’t forget.” Kadar nodded at the doctor, thanking him graciously for everything they had done to help them out. “Well, get dressed and feel free to be out of this dreary hospital. Stay safe Malik,” The Doctor said before handing the bag of medication to Kadar, turning and leaving. 

Malik shakily got up off of the hospital bed, having lost quite a lot of muscle mass during his time in the hospital recovering from a fateful accident. A fateful accident that claimed his arm and the love of his life. Well, the love of his life didn’t die in the accident but he might as well have. It might have been less painful than him disappearing out of nowhere. 

Whenever he stumbled, there was a helping hand right behind him to stabilize him. With the two brothers working together, they got Malik out of the bed and into the bathroom with a change of clean clothes. Malik slowly worked out of his hospital gown and into underwear and some sweats and a comfy long sleeved shirt. It pointed out his missing arm even more, which bugged him. There was a warm hoodie in the bag as well and he pulled it on, before stopping dead in his tracks; the hoodie reeked of Altaïr, and Malik took a shar inhale of breath. He had lent this hoodie to Altaïr so many times, and it still smelt of him. Something about it was comforting though, like he hadn’t just left with no notice or explanation. Like he was still here, wrapping his arms around Malik and trying to protect him from the dangers of the world. 

But he wasn’t. He was God knows where with a missing ring finger and hopefully a conscience that was telling him he had done wrong. Suddenly, anger welled up inside of Malik, fierce and hot, catching him off guard. He was used to muted emotions, not the burning rage of someone who felt betrayed by his one true love. It was Altaïr's fault, it was all his fault.

Malik collected his hospital gown before placing it on the bed and looked at Kadar. “Well, I’m ready to go,” He said. He felt livelier now that he was being fueled by rage. But a part of him was sad that all the deadness inside of him had turned to such a strong and hateful emotion, but Malik was finding it hard to care. He had spent a long time thinking about it, and it was time for him to accept what really happened that night. 

He needed to accept that Altaïr was wrong, Altaïr had done him wrong, and he wasn’t going to forgive him so easily.


	4. Baby, You're a Firework

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is like 3 days late but I was feeling festive on the Fourth and started writing this!!  
> I apologies if it seems a bit rushed, I kinda pushed myself a little bit to try and get it out on time which obviously didn't work. Whoops.  
> One more fic and then a time skip of about 2 years-ish! C:

Altaïr had expected to go to work on the Fourth of July and deal with tons of drunk people. He was honestly surprised when the sign on the bar read, 'Sorry! We will be closed on the 4th of July' with a little patriotic flag with fireworks in the background. Altaïr couldn't help but laugh at the stupid poster. It had been a year down in New York city and honestly, he was enjoying himself a lot more than he expected. Sure, somethings had a tendency to bring up bad memories, but overall his little triplet group-with their girlfriends and boyfriends respectively- was not a bad group. Altaïr was just always the one without someone on his arm.

It was about noon on the fourth and Altaïr was sitting on his bed, getting ready to eat an extremely sad looking sandwich when there was a knock on the door. Altaïr jumped slightly, having been focusing more on the music playing around him than his surroundings. He stood up, sandwich in hand, and walked to open the door. He was greeted with a very happy Italian.

"Hello Ezio," Altaïr said with a slightly surprised smile. "What brings you to my shitty apartment today?" 

"Ah! _Mi amico!_ What kind of sad sandwich is that? It just looks... so sad. Obviously I came at the right time. Go put that thing in the fridge and get ready to go somewhere. We're going out on the town tonight!" Ezio said with a large smile. He was dressed in dark skinny jeans, some black dress shoes and a T-shirt with a light leather jacket slung over his arm. Altaïr sighed. "Fine. I'll go get my hoodie and wallet."

Altaïr turned into the apartment, not bothering with closing the door as he knew Ezio would just follow him inside anyways. He dropped his sandwich on a plate and put it in the fridge before grabbing his hoodie and wallet off the counter. He pulled his hoodie on, placing the hood on his head as usual. "So what are we doing today Ezio?" Atlair asked.

"Ah! _Sí._ We are going to go pick up Desmond and then we will be heading out for a fun night on the town! On me of course," Ezio said with a smile. 

Altaïr nodded. Anything he didn't have to pay for was ok by him. It wasn't that he didn't have plenty of money, it was just that Ezio was just plain loaded. He drove a red Lamborghini if that told you anything about how much money he had. Altaïr did driven it once though and almost crashed it. Ezio was not very happy. 

Altiar followed Ezio down to the first floor of his apartment complex and got into the passenger seat of the Lambo. "Des is sitting in the back, no complaints," Altaïr stated once Ezio pulled himself into the drivers side. He chuckled. "He is the youngest!" And pulled out onto the road. 

The drive to Desmonds apartment was quite but fast. They arrived and Altaïr followed Ezio up to the elevator that lead to his 6th story apartment. It was a much nicer building than the one Altaïr lived in. Altaïr liked to think of his apartment as the 'sad man cave.' No one really like hanging out in it with him, but that was ok. It was better to spend his time in it alone anyways.

The door bell rang and Desmond popped his head out, a Popsicle stick sticking out of his mouth. "Oh hey Ezio and Altaïr. What can I do for you?" He asked, pulling himself more upright to show off his white hoodie with his black shirt poking out of where it had been zipped down. His sleeves were rolled up to expose his tattoo as usual. 

"We're going out tonight. Grab your things and let's go!" Ezio said, smiling. Desmond frowned though. "I can only join you if I can take Lucy with us. She's over here for tonight. We were going to go see some fireworks over the harbor." Ezio frowned, turned to Altaïr and he shrugged in response. 

"Ok fine. Bring your girlfriend and lets go." Desmond smiled and then turned, leaving the door open as Altiar did and entered the apartment. As expected, Altiar and Ezio followed him inside to see a young blonde women with her hair pulled back in a pony tail with paper spread all over the coffee table that sat in front of the couch. She wore an American flag tank top and some blue short shorts. 

"Wow. Very festive Lucy," Altaïr said with a smile and eyed Lucy as non discreetly as possible. "Woah! MY girlfriend. Stop it Altaïr. I thought you were gay anyways!" "I can still admire beautiful things. Also Bi, get it right," He said with a playful shove to his arm. 

"Hey, I don't mind Desmond," Lucy said with a smile. "OH MY GOD LUCY NO!" Desmond shouted, making everyone laugh. 

"Anyways, we're going to go out with these losers tonight if that's ok?" Desmond asked. Lucy nodded. "That'd be fine yeah. Actually, it'd be fun. I need a break from this case anyways. It's giving me a headache," She said, rubbing her temples. Desmond walked over behind her and gave her shoulders a nice squeeze or two that she smiled up at him about. Both Ezio and Altaïr made joking sounds of disgust, which got them a glare from the man. 

“Well let’s get going _amici_ we have things to do! Things to see!” Ezio said as he shooed everyone out of Desmonds apartment and down into his Lambo. They would be having a quick lunch and then shopping, and after that a nice dinner followed by watching fireworks over the harbor. It would be perfect. 

****  
It had been the Fourth of July, a holiday full of joy, BBQ and fireworks. Also a lot of dumb idiots setting their nuts on fire. However, some people had to spend it working. Malik was one of them. He sighed heavily, pulling his suit on, making sure the missing arm area was properly folded up so he wouldn’t have to worry about it. Malik clipped on his clip on tie, as he was unable to tie one anymore, and flashed himself a smile in the mirror. 

Malik wasn’t very happy about having to work on the 4th. He was hoping to be able to take Kadar down to their neighbors to watch fireworks while he grilled before hand, but his new plans would suffice. 

Malik walked down the hall of their small apartment to Kadar’s room and knocked a few times before poking his head in. “Hey Kadar. I have that wedding down in the city today,” Malik said, receiving a cold gaze back from his brother. He wished he didn’t have to deal with the cold side of his brother so much. Ever since Altaïr left, it seemed like he had just gotten colder, though the time he spent with Malik during his recovery was greatly appreciated. 

“Yeah I know. What’s your point?” Kadar asked coldly. Malik sighed, running his hand through his dark hair. “Well get ready to go. I talked to the people who were doing the wedding, and they said you could come and afterwards we’ll be seeing the fireworks over the harbor,” Malik said with a smile. Kadar’s eyes light up in a blink of an eye. He was up and grabbing his best dress shirt and his nicest pair of jeans. Malik laughed, turning to leave and letting him do what he could do to make himself look fairly decent. 

He walked down the hallway into the kitchen where his laptop was already packed up and ready to plug into the speakers at the wedding hall. He double checked everything to make sure it was all there when Kadar burst into the living room, a ball of excitement. Even though he was starting his sophomore year of college next year, Kadar still acted like a child a lot of the time, but it gave Malik a secret sense of joy. It felt like he hadn’t completely messed up his brother after their parent’s died. 

“So are we going to go or are you just going to stare at me with that awkward ‘I’ve done good raising you Kadar’ stare?” Kadar asked, making Malik’s face turn slightly red with embarrassment. “Yes, yes. Let’s go. Grab my keys and wallet will you?” Malik asked pointing to their location next to the coat rack as Malik grabbed his bag full of his electronics.

They walked down to Maliks ever interesting minivan which had been modified so he could drive it even if he was missing an arm. It had cost a lot of money, but thankfully his work was more than happy to help chip in with the price. Malik threw his things in the back of the van and then got into the front. “Ready for a pretty ok Fourth of July?” Malik asked Kadar, starting the car up with a grin. Kadar replied with a grin and, “More than ready.” 

 

****

 

The wedding had been extremely boring from both ends of the spectrum. The music they wanted to be played was dull and boring. The only highlight was the free food that was excellent. Malik sighed a heavy sigh as he packed up his laptop and chords after the wedding, ready to get headed out to the fireworks to get a good spot before it got too crowded. Kadar wandered over asking if he could help in any way which Malik gratefully pointed him in the right direction to help him pack up all of his chords. (He had quite a  
few chords.) 

Once everything had been packed up, the two of them got back into the mini van and drove towards the harbor at dusk. It was quiet between the two as Malik drove through traffic to find a place to park for the fireworks. 

After a miracle of some sort, Malik was able to find a parking spot and they got out of the car and headed towards the harbor. The fireworks had just begun once the two of them had found a good spot that wasn’t too crowded. They watched the show in silence, sometimes turning to one another and saying things like, “Wow! Did you see that firework?!” And replying with an ecstatic yes.

Once the show was over and the people began to leave, Malik rose from his spot and turned, but stopped dead in his tracks, his face turning white. “A-Altaïr?” He said, voice shaking as a man was shoved down into a headlock of a taller man with a ponytail. They were accompanied by a couple who were laughing at the two. Malik watched the mans hands closely, before catching a glimpse of his missing ring finger. “ALTAÏR!” Malik called, but his voice was drowned out by the growing crowd.


End file.
